


Kindle (the Burn as Blue Remix)

by spicedpiano



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Dragons, First Meetings, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:40:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2075397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicedpiano/pseuds/spicedpiano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Erik fled a fate as King's consort, he knew he might be killed by dragons.  He didn't expect to fall in love with one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindle (the Burn as Blue Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ang3lsh1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lsh1/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Burn as Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657706) by [ang3lsh1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lsh1/pseuds/ang3lsh1). 



All his life, Erik was taught to fear dragons. From the time he could walk he was taught to run. If he could hold a stick, he could hold a knife, a sword. He saw the black and furrowed ground where the dragons left their mark, fire scourging the earth turning the soil dark. Pastures lost. But he also saw how easily that soil took the seed in spring, emerald leaves and shoots growing out of the cinder, stretching thirsty roots down deep. Dragons steal gold and silver for their hordes, but who better than Erik knows the call of metal? The way it sings to you, thrums in the marrow of your bones.

Erik worked in the smithy as a child, but every chance he got he’d run out to the pasture and lie in the grass with the other shepherd boys, staring at the blue sky, searching for dragons. Sometimes he thought he could see them, flying so far above-head they were nothing more than dark shadows flitting betwixt the clouds. But maybe not. 

At any rate, he doesn’t see one up close until he is five and twenty years of age. He is a knight in the King’s service, not the youngest but yet the boldest, undefeated. It is not only his metal witchery that takes the credit: Erik has fought opponents with wooden staves and ceramic swords and still emerged unscathed. He is, they say, uncommonly gifted. Tall and strong and beautiful; it is well-known the King himself has a mind to make Sir Erik his unwedded consort. 

To the court these are just rumors. But Erik is the one who has to play these games. He knows in truth just how the King wants him, because he is the one who has to turn him away each night with excuses that are growing increasingly flimsy. He doesn’t know how long he can keep playing these games of lust. Already he can see the glint of victory in the King’s eyes. 

There are other courtly rumors, too. 

“Dragons,” they say, whispering among themselves, “like pretty things. Sir Erik is fey, and he’s a talented swordsman besides. Can’t be long until a dragon comes and snatches him away from our beloved King.”

These rumors, Erik thinks, may have no basis in reality at all. But still he has to try.

He leaves before dawn, when the night is at its darkest. He follows the narrow trail through the woods until the path vanishes beneath the fallen leaves and tangled tree roots. When he pushes on, he has the sense of leaving something behind — as if, until now, he’d been traveling with a friend, and now must go on alone.

He makes his way through the forest and into the mountains. The grass and shrubbery give way to granite and obsidian, sharp and dangerous. Twice he falls and cuts himself on the rock. 

He wonders if the dragon is watching him. If he’ll be allowed to pass through to the lower country alive, or if this is where he’ll leave his bones.

Rounding a ridge, Erik sees a glimpse of movement up ahead. But it’s gone behind a boulder before he can identify it; he picks up his pace, dodging rocks, climbing higher to where the air’s so thin it hurts to breathe.

There’s … there’s a man, standing there, silhouetted against the blue sky. He’s dressed all in white, dark hair whipping in the wind, smiling at Erik. “Hello,” he says. His voice is lightly accented.

“… Hello,” Erik says back. He takes a step closer and the man’s smile widens. “Who are you?”

“I think that’s my question,” the man says. “This is my home, after all, and you’re trespassing.”

Who would live up here in the rocks? Erik hasn’t seen a stream for miles, and the volcano blows too often for it to be safe. But Erik says, regardless:

“My name is Erik.”

“What’s this? No House? No knighthood?” If Erik’s not mistaken, there’s something almost playful in the way the man arches his brow. “Just Erik?”

Erik left all that behind him, for better or for worse. “Just Erik.”

He moves closer, and closer again, his heart beating fast in his chest, every fiber of his being wanting to run just as much as he wants to approach. The wind flutters at his skin, beckoning.

“Who are you?” Erik says again, and he hears the answer in the sudden heat in his bones, the murmur of a laugh echoing in his own head even as the man’s lips never move. Erik’s close enough to see his eyes now, and they are very, very blue.

“Why have you come here, Erik?” He asks softly, almost gently. If Erik reached out with his hand, he could have touched him. 

“I came,” Erik says, “seeking dragons.”

He blinks, and when he opens his eyes again the dragon stands before him, black wings spread wide and its eyes like sapphires, breathing out heat that prickles at Erik’s skin and makes him shiver. 

_This dragon?_

Erik kneels, thighs shaking and his legs cut on the razor-sharp rock, the scent of his own blood suddenly sharp and metallic in the air. He closes his eyes and waits for the fire of death, but all he feels is the brush of scales on his cheek, a quick touch that is soon withdrawn.

 _I have waited for you, mate, for a very long time,_ the dragon says. 

Erik follows the dragon to its cave, a magnificent cavern deep in the mountain filled with so much gold and silver that Erik is intoxicated by the sensation of it. The dragon, in his human form, kisses him and his mouth tastes like ashes and smoke, his fingertips burning like coals on Erik's flesh. It's a fairy tale, he thinks -- only people in fairy tales fall in love at first sight. But he feels the dragon like a part of himself, a burning cinder beneath his breastbone. 

"I never want to be apart from you," he says, and the dragon touches his finger to Erik's lips, quieting him, but he's smiling.

And so it is that Erik goes to dwell with the dragon, binds himself to him, loves him. They live together in happiness for many years.


End file.
